


Take Heart

by eris_kyrall (kereia)



Category: Black Jewels - Anne Bishop
Genre: Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 18:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/600630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kereia/pseuds/eris_kyrall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jaenelle's plan to draw her father out of his self-imposed exile backfires, it is Wilhelmina who keeps a calm head on her shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [random_chick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_chick/gifts).



> Set sometime after "Kaeleer's Heart" (Dreams Made Flesh).
> 
> To: random_chick for Yuletide 2012.
> 
> Truth be told, when I got this assignment, I was equal parts thrilled and despairing. This is my first fic in the fandom, and I was a lot more intimidated to write about these characters than I thought I would be. Nevertheless, I had a lot of fun writing this story, and I hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> Happy Yuletide. :)

 

 

**Take Heart**

 

The very second they touched down on the landing web, Jaenelle dropped the black shield she had thrown around them on their harried dash out of town and hurried into the labyrinthine corridors of Ebon Askavi.

The sudden deceleration made Wilhelmina stumble, and she braced a hand against the entrance to the Black Mountain to regain her balance. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she saw Kalush and Karla struggling to regain their footing as well, which made her feel slightly less clumsy.

“Mother Night,” Karla muttered. “She's really done it this time.” With an indecipherable glance at Wilhelmina, the Glacian Queen grasped her cane tightly and rushed past her to follow Jaenelle.

“What are we going to do now?” Kalush called out, her beautiful eyes filled with worry.

Wilhelmina took a deep breath and tried to remain calm before she attempted to catch up to her friends and sister. “I really think you're overreacting,” she said as she dashed past imposing archways of deep, black stone.

Karla threw her another one of those unsettling glances, but said nothing, which made Wilhelmina uneasy. Did the Glacian Queen believe that this was her fault? Surely not.

Of course, technically it _had been_ her idea, but it wasn't as if Jaenelle would not have come up with a plan of her own - a plan that would have been about a thousand times more frightening and prone to end in disaster. Wilhelmina had just been trying to be helpful, and besides, Karla knew Jaenelle better than almost anyone. She _knew_ how Jaenelle was once she'd made her mind up about something. There really was no stopping her.

Jaenelle, meanwhile, was twisting her hands together, her step never faltering. Anxiety came off her in waves as she headed for her rooms inside the Keep. She did not look back at Wilhelmina or Karla as she turned around a corner.

“No,” she said, her voice an octave higher than it usually was. “No, you don't understand. It's not that he's going to be mad. No, he's going to look at me, and he will be _disappointed._ Oh, you have no idea, how awful that look is. It'll be written all over his face. And then,” her voice hitched, and Wilhemina was almost sure that Jaenelle was crying, “and then,” she repeated, “he's going to say `witch child` in _that_ tone of voice and...”

A door opened just in front of them, and Lucivar Yaslana stepped into the corridor. Jaenelle stopped abruptly and stood stock still.

“You're back early. I thought you were going to stay in Amdarh until...” getting a good look at Jaenelle's face, Lucivar bristled, his dark wings spreading to block the breadth of the corridor. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Jaenelle said quietly, and Wilhelmina was relieved that not only did her sister's voice sound calm and steady, but she had obviously not been crying after all, or Lucivar would already be riding the killing edge. She also must have been shielding her emotional turmoil from the bond created by the Ring of Honor, which would have not only alerted Lucivar, but would have brought, at the very least, Daemon and Aaron baring down on them.

Instead, Karla shouldered her way in front of Jaenelle. “Easy sugar, we just had a little... mishap, you might say. Nothing to get upset about.”

Lucivar glowered down at the Glacian Queen and crossed his arms, which, Wilhelmina had to admit was very impressive. Weeks and months on the practice field had done little to decrease the overpowering sense of intimidation that Lucivar could project if he set his mind to it.

“A little mishap?” he asked, his voice deceptively gentle.

“Yes.” Dismissively, Karla waved a hand through the air between them. “A tiny little thing really. A silly plan gone awry, as silly plans are wont to do.”

Taking a deep breath, Lucivar leaned down into Karla's face, and Wilhemina, though frozen as a rabbit would be in front of a snake, had to admire the Glacian Queen's bone-headed courage. Karla. Did. Not. Move. An. Inch.

“And what exactly was the objective of this 'silly little plan?'” he growled quietly.

It was in this moment that Jaenelle regained her emotional balance and casually rested her chin on Karla's shoulder, while snaking a hand around the witch's waist and looking up at Lucivar with big, doleful eyes. “Oh, you know,” she said airily,” it's just that we thought papa could use a bit of help, because he hasn't really been enjoying himself very much lately, and then the thing with the puppy went just a _little_ bit out of hand, and everybody was running around _completely_ hysterical, which I really thought was a bit much. I mean it's not as if we beheaded the poor thing. And...”

“Enough.” During the course of Jaenelle's explanation, Lucivar had abandoned his glowering battle stance, his expression changing from fierce determination to the familiar distress of a male confronted with the reasoning behind one of Jaenelle's schemes. He held up a hand. “Saetan knows about this?” he clarified.

“Of course, he does.”Karla answered, rolling her eyes to the heavens, as if the question was the silliest thing she'd every heard. “He was the one chasing the puppy... or was he chasing Lady Silvia,” she put a finger to her mouth, “I can't quite remember.”

Biting her lips, Wilhelmina valiantly fought the urge to laugh as Lucivar took a hasty step back. “Saetan was chasing Lady Silvia?”

“He thought she was the puppy,” Jaenelle supplied helpfully.

“I don't want to know,” Lucivar said, struggling for the note of determination that usually came so naturally to him. “I really don't. In fact, I just remembered that there are a few very important task that require my undivided attention for the next few hours...” he gave the four of them a considering look, “the next few days. If you should see Saetan, please give him my regards.”

Backing away from them with a strained smile, he turned and hurried away, presumably to the next available landing web.

“Kiss, kiss,” Karla called after him, a wicked smile curving her lips.

Jaenelle, however, was still not in any mood to jest. As soon as Lucivar was out of sight, her nonchalant manner fell away, and she pushed her way around Karla and Kalush to resume her hurried flight towards her rooms.

“He's going to tell Lucivar,” she moaned, her voice breaking. “And he's going to tell Daemon, and then all three of them will know and...”

Wilhelmina took a deep breath and decided to end the drama. She darted in front of Jaenelle as soon as her sister had entered her bedroom and put her hands on Jaenelle's shoulders. Wilhelmina wasn't quite sure where she found the courage to do so. Though she had always loved her younger sister dearly, ever since she had arrived in Kaeleer, there had been times when she had found Janelle intimidating.

Part of this was due to meeting the large number of people, _powerful people_ , who Jaenelle called family and the strong bonds she had forged with her friends. Even though Wilhelmina had know that Jaenelle was visiting the same group of people since they'd both been children, meeting them in the flesh had been a bit of a shock. Another part was her lingering sense of guilt at having been the cause for Jaenelle's refusal to leave their birth parents in spite of the horrors she'd had to endure while in their care. Horrors from which Jaenelle had shielded Wilhelmina for as long as she possibly could.

“Uncle Saetan loves you, Jaenelle. Lucivar and Daemon love you. You... _we_ didn't do anything wrong, we were just trying to help. I believe if we just go to Uncle Saetan and explain why...”

Jaenelle backed away from her, clearly upset. “No, I can't face him. Not right now. I need some time to think.” She nodded as if trying convince herself. “I need a plan.”

Kalush made a sound that was half groan, half laugh. “Another one?” she asked. “I think this whole mess got started because we _had a plan._ Really, I'm with Wilhelmina on this. Let's talk to Saetan and apologize.”

“The sooner you confront him, the sooner we can all put this matter behind us,” Wilhelmina added. “He's always been reasonable, and it's not as if he isn't used to our ill-conceived schemes backfiring.”

Karla shot her an exasperated look, but Wilhelmina resolutely ignored the growing knot of anxiety in her stomach and stood her ground. Maybe the wine at the opera in Amdarh had been more potent than Wilhelmina had credited; she certainly seemed to have found a little extra courage this evening. “He won't be mad at you forever.”

Jaenelle looked only half convinced. “I told you, it's not that he'll be mad, Wilhelmina. He'll be...”

“...disappointed,” Karla finished and gently put her arm around Jaenelle's shoulders. “Look, I will follow you wherever you go, so if you need a day or two to collect yourself, we can visit Gabrielle, but in the end, the girls are right. We need to talk to Saetan sooner or later.”

Jaenelle leaned her head against Karla's. Her hand idly played with Twilight's Dawn, the jewel that adorned a delicate gold chain around her neck. “I know.”

“So what do you want to do?” Kalush asked quietly.

Jaenelle was quiet for a moment, then sighed and closed her eyes, before standing up straight. “We'll visit Gabrielle tonight, and I'll talk to Saetan in the morning.” Stepping up to Wilhelmina, she grasped her hand. “I need one night to sleep over this and figure out what to say to him.”

Wilhelmina nodded, accepting the compromise without further objections. “I'll help you pack.”

“Oh, I won't need much, really. You should all pack your own luggage. We can meet back here in half an hour.”

While Kalush and Karla excused themselves – Karla with a quick kiss to Jaenelle's temple – Wilhelmina remained behind. Jaenelle gave her a curious, but not unwelcome, look and closed the door behind their friends. Kneeling in front of a great wooden chest, Wilhelmina opened the heavy lid and pulled out a black traveling cloak.

“Are you not coming with us?” Jaenelle asked, kneeling down next to her.

Wilhelmina absentmindedly stroked her hand along the soft velvet. A brief smile ghosted across her face, but it did not reach her eyes. “I always carry a packed bag with me,” she admitted quietly. Her fingertips came to rest above a hard object that was wrapped inside the folds of the cloak.

“Why would you do that?” Jaenelle asked leaning forward. Her hand brushed against Wilhelmina's face, startling her out of her reverie. Looking up, she met Jaenelle's concerned expression with wide eyes. “I thought you were happy here?”

“I am,” Wilhelmina replied, “ it's just...” she swallowed hard and felt a momentary pressure building in her chest as memories of her time in Terreille came flooding back. Even though Prince Alexander had never divulged her whereabouts to her family after she had run away, she had been plagued by nightmares of her father finding her one day. She'd spent her days terrified for a very long time, that he would trick her or drug her to overcome the deeper power of her jewels in order to finish what he had started. She had always vanished a supply of food and clothes to carry with her in case she had to flee to another place, should she learn of his presence before he got to her.

“Old habits die hard,” she admitted quietly.

Jaenelle grasped her hands, nothing but understanding in her eyes, which only increased the pressure around Wilhelmina's heart. She raised her hand to brusquely brush away her tears and accidentally dislodged the cloak on her knees. The fabric fell to the floor and several brightly colored stones slipped out of its folds cascading across the marble.

Wilhelmina inhaled sharply. “Are these your old jewels?”

“Yes, they are.” Jaenelle reached out to pluck a bright sapphire one off the floor and held it out to her sister. “I gave this to you once.”

“It kept me save.” Wilhelmina whispered and reverently placed two fingers against the cold gem. Tears spilled from her eyes, and she snapped her hand back as if she'd been burned. “I am so sorry, Jaenelle. I knew that you were hurting...”

“You didn't know how bad things were,” Jaenelle interrupted her decisively. “I was very good at keeping the truth hidden from everyone. Even from Daemon.” Throwing her arms around her sister, Jaenelle pulled Wilhelmina into a fierce hug. “Nothing of what happened back then is your fault. _Nothing,_ do you hear me?”

“But I should have realized...” Wilhelmina began.

“Hush,” Jeanelle silenced her. “Both of us survived.” Releasing Wilhelmina, she drew back a little and put her hands onto her sister's shoulders unconsciously mirroring Wilhelmina's earlier gesture. “We got away, and we both built a live here.” She wrinkled her nose at Wilhelmina. “Well, I more than you at the moment; we need to find you a consort.”

Wilhelmina laughed accepting the obvious change of subject. “I will find my own consort, thank you very much. For now, I'd just like to get my school project off the ground.”

“A cultural exchange between Kindred, Blood, and Landens is a wonderful idea, Wilhelmina.”

Wilhemina blushed, still not used to even the simplest praise. “I believe we can all learn from each other. Maybe, one day, we can even include Little Terreille in the project. There has been some interest. Not a lot, but a few people have approached the Keep with requests after we made the announcement.”

Jaenelle considered this. “Then you've already accomplished a lot,” she finally said. The jewels scattered across the floor vanished at Jaenelle's behest. Rising to her feet, she offered Wilhelmina her hand and pulled her sister up. “I wish you only the best of fortune, and may the Darkness protect you, sister.”

Following the spontaneous urge, Wilhelmina pulled her sister into a long, fierce embrace. “And you,” she said, before stepping back. Her heart suddenly felt light, and a mischievous smile bloomed on her face. “In particular, may it protect you from Saetan's disappointed face.”

Jaenelle's mouth dropped open in a facetious expression of shock. “How ghastly of you. Wilhelmina, I didn't think you had it in you.” Her small hand balled into a fist, she moved to playfully strike Wilhelmina's shoulder, but the older woman had not been drilled in the art of self-defense for naught. She easily evaded the punch and raised her hands in surrender.

“Well, you shouldn't have tried to manipulate Uncle Saetan and Lady Silvia the way you did.”

“The puppy was your idea.”

“I was just trying to come up with something less disastrous that you would have thought up.”

“Because I always think up disastrous plans when I'm trying to _help_ people.”

“Yes.”

The two women starred at each, then broke into laughter.

“Alright, I'll talk to Saetan in the morning.” Jaenelle promised.

“I'll go with you.”

Jaenelle raise one eloquent eyebrow. “You better.”

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

On her first visits to to the woods of the Dea al Mon, Wilhelmina had stared in wide-eyed wonder at towns and hamlets that burrowed into hillsides and rose sheltered in the lofty heights of treetops, blending in so as to be nearly invisible. It had seemed a magical place to her, and this impression had not changed.

Gabrielle and Chaosti had welcomed them on the landing web, bemused expressions on their faces as a chagrined Jaenelle explained the reason for their coming in more detail than she had in the short psychic message she'd sent ahead of their arrival.

An hour later, Jaenelle and Karla had retired to their suit of rooms, Kalush and Gabrielle were deep in conversation over a late night snack in the kitchen, and Wilhelmina had followed an inclination to wander through the gardens.

It was wonderfully quiet. Not silent – wind rustled gently through the leaves above, nighttime birds hotted softly, and every now and then there was the mad dash of wings as bats flew through the night hunting for insects.

Wilhelmina's stride took her to the lake that skirted the edges of the woods and spilled into a deep, far valley beyond. A gazebo was situated on the shore, two towering willow trees on either side providing shelter and the illusion of privacy.

Covering the bench with a warming spell, Wilhelmina sank down and stretched her back before sagging boneless against the smooth wooden support columns. Pulling one of her knees up onto the bench, she rested her arms on the balustrade and her chin atop these. A full moon swam languidly on the shallow waves of the lake, and Wilhelmina felt an overpowering sense of peace fall around her shoulders.

During her first visit this had quickly become her favorite place in all the realms, and sometimes, especially on nights like this, she thought she might just stay here, unmoving, as time ran by, and trees grew from nut and acorns reaching for the sky. Here, she was engulfed in a perfect little bubble.

Eventually, she would always pull herself out of that bubble, her memories of Terreille a firm reminder that as pleasant as every escape to this piece of serenity was, she did not need to hide herself away from the world. Living on her own had allowed her to grow into her strength more than she had realized. It was not until she'd come to Kaeleer in search for her sister that she'd truly understood that she could rely on herself to face any challenge thrown her way. As uncomfortable as she'd felt during her first weeks here, she'd carved out a little niche for herself in the past months and was slowly starting to build a life here.

The school project, or workshop as she liked to call it, was a big part of that. It gave her a purpose, something to focus her energy and allowed her to grow roots where she had previously often felt adrift, the plaything of powers, people, agendas outside her control. When she thought about her plans to help further understanding between the races of Kaeleer, she felt a fierce wave of joy rise within her.

Ladvarian had been a big help, and, surprisingly, Kaelas as well, once she'd found the courage to speak to him directly. She had the suspicion that Jaenelle had put in a good word for her among the Kindred, even though her sister emphatically denied any such interference, but Wilhelmina knew her sister too well and was grateful for the help, if she was honest. After all, she'd always been aware that getting the Kindred, who had been systematically hunted down by the Terreillians and the residents of Little Terreille in Kaeleer, to agree to an open exchange of ideas would always be the most difficult task in getting this project under way.

Watching the waves lapping at the shore, Wilhemina felt a pleasant sense of drowsiness settle into her bones. Her eyelids dropped as her breathing evened out, and it took her a long moment to realize that she was not alone anymore.

When she finally became aware of the figure at the edge of her vision, she yelped and jumped to her feet. Lucivar's training had her erecting a defensive shield and calling in a weapon without even realizing it, and when she recognized Chaosti merely raising an eyebrow in amusement, she felt her face flush with embarrassment.

“Forgive me,” he said graciously, soft laughter in his voice, “ I did not mean to startle you.”

Vanishing her weapon and dropping her shield, Wilhelmina nonetheless maintained her fighting stance.

“Then you should not have sneaked up on me,” she groused, knowing perfectly well that she had been well on her way to falling asleep and would probably not have heard a herd of stampeding horses race through the forest, but that was beside the point. It was about the principle of the thing – at least that's what she told herself.

His face carefully blank, which gave Wilhelmina the distinct impression that he was laughing at her on the inside, Chaosti nevertheless inclined his head in assent. “You looked at peace looking out on the water. I did not wish to disturb you reverie.”

It was as much of an apology as she was going to get, and so she sat back on the bench pulling her feet up into a cross-legged position, and wrinkled her nose at him. “You're forgiven.”

Chaosti laughed. “How very gracious of you.” The playful expression on his face took the sting out of his words as he gracefully settled down next to her. “I came to talk to you about your... you call it a work shop, do you? Because the though at going back to school makes me want to turn and run.” He shuddered emphatically, and Wilhelmina could only stare at him aghast.

For one thing, the thought of Chaosti, or any Dea al Mon for that matter, running away from _anything_ was too strange to even contemplate. Secondly, she had really never considered that the tall, proud, fierce, and silver-haired Warlord Prince would even think about attending her proposed cultural exchange.

It wasn't so much that he already knew pretty much everything she intended to facilitate at the work shop because of his friendship with Jaenelle, but there was something about the Dea al Mon that she'd always perceived as _apart_ from the rest of the world. They were an elusive people who preferred to keep to themselves, and to the best of Wilhelmina's understanding, before Jaenelle had made friends among the Dea al Mon, only the occasional merchant and envoy had ever been allowed regular access to their territory.

Seeing her incredulous look, Chaosti frowned and put his hands to his face, examining it carefully. “Have I grown a second head?” he asked facetiously.

Wilhelmina blinked. “It is my understanding that men generally have two of those, even if they swell for very different reasons.”

At Chaosti's roaring laughter, Wilhelmina slapped a hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. She could not believe that she had said these words out loud – and to Chaosti of all people.

“You are unusually feisty, today.” Chaosti gasped once he'd calmed down enough to speak.

Eyes still closed, Wilhelmina rubbed her palms across her face. “I'm tired, and I had a little too much wine at the opera tonight. I'm not myself.”

“Well, I like this version of you. You should let her out more often.”

She studied him sceptically to determine whether or not he was serious. “Thanks. I'll take it into consideration when the work shop starts.”

“Nervous?”

“Very,” she admitted.

“That's perfectly normal, but you're not alone. Ladvarian, Kaelas, Jaenelle, Kalush, and... Mari...?”

“Yes, she's half Blood. Jaenelle and Lucivar saved her and her town from a Jhinka attack some years ago.”

He nodded, sadness clouding his eyes for a moment. “I remember. Many died in that battle.”

“More Jhinkas than Landens,” she reminded him gently, having heard battle tales from Lucivar long before she's been told what Jaenelle had done to herself during those three days of brutal fighting.

“Yes.” With a fierce nod, Chaosti straightened. “And she's only one of many people who will help you realize this project. And the reason I came to talk to you is that Gabrielle and I would like to participate as well.”

Wilhelmina's eyebrows rose. “Did Jaenelle put you up to this?” she asked.

“No. It is time that the Dea al Mon become more involved in the realm. I think there's a bigger picture to consider.”

Having spent endless hours considering not only how to realize her work shop idea but also its ramifications, Wilhelmina could hazard a guess as to what Chaosti was thinking about. “Terreille?” she ventured.

He gave her an approving look. “Terreille,” he acknowledged. “The realm has been devastated far more than Kaeleer has. Aside from the multitude of power vacuums created when Jaenelle purged the realms, we haven't been on the best of terms with Terreille since the last great war, and I think it's time to start sending ambassadors through the gates. We need ot make sure that Dorothea's reign will not find a revival under someone else. Not to mention that we can help people.”

Wilhelmina looked at him shrewdly. “Naturally these ambassadors will need to be very well informed about _all_ cultures and people of Kaeleer.”

Chaosti inclined his head. “Naturally.”

“And we should not forget Little Terreille, in fact, I think we should start with that territory.”

He gave her a considering look. “You've thought about this before.”

Wilhelmina put a theatrical hand to her chest. “Oh woe is you, the great Warlord Prince whose ideas, splendid as they may be, are not wholly original.”

Chaosti glared down his nose at her. “I changed my mind. I think I liked you better when you were this timid little thing who jumped in fear of her own shadow and did not make fun of Grey-Jeweled Warlord Princes,” he groused.

“You'll have to wait until tomorrow when I'm rested and sober, mylord.” Her wicked smile was rewarded with one of his own.

“You remind me eerily of Karla, just now,” he said and stood offering her a hand.

“That's... actually a very big compliment,” she admitted, pride warming her heart. “I should do this more often.” Accepting his hand, she let herself be pulled to her feet revelling in the mock-horrified expression on Chaosti's face.

“Now, I fear, I've created a monster,” he grumbled, but Wilhelmina only laughed.

“Let's get you to bed.”

Planting her feet, Wilhelmina stared into the dark woods as a resolution slowly began to form inside her mind.

“Wilhelmina?” Chaosti asked concerned.

Shaking herself out of her reverie, Wilhelmina let go of Chaosti's hand and gave him a chagrin smile. “I'm not going to bed, yet. Since I'm riding this sleep-deprived and alcohol-induced wave of courage, I might as well make the best of it and talk to Saetan.”

“Are you sure that's wise?”

“Nope,” Wilhelmina admitted, popping the 'p' for emphasis. “But it'll be a story to tell, that's for sure.”

Chaosti looked at her, admiration and exasperation warring on his face. “I'm going with you,” he said, his tone firm, but Wilhelmina shook her head and placed a restraining hand on his chest.

“I'm doing this on my own.”

 

 

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

 

The first light of dawn was rising over the hills in the west when Wilhelmina arrived at Ebon Askavi. Draca, the Keep's Seneschal, informed her that Saetan had returned only moments ago, which surprised Wilhelmina, but during her journey, she had become far too nervous to speculate about his prolonged stay in Amdarh.

She stood in front of the vast, curving double doors that led to Saetan's private rooms and ground her teeth together. There was a growing knot of anxiety twisting in the pit of her stomach, and she kept brushing her perspiring palms against the fabric of her pants. Gone was the assured confidence she had felt at the lake, and the longer she stood in the hallway, the more she wanted to run away, convinced that her coming here was a terribly stupid idea.

Biting down on her bottom lip, she stifled a despairing moan and knocked on the door before her instinct to flee became any stronger.

A long moment of silence passed before a deep, smooth voice bade her to enter.

Taking a deep breath, she opened one of the doors just far enough to slip into the room. Inside, the curtains were drawn, and candlelight flickered across the polished black stone of the Keep's walls. Saetan sat behind a desk at the back of the room, the pen in his hand poised above what Wilhelmina assumed to be a letter. The blood Jaenelle had more or less coerced him to drink before going to Amdarh had restored him enough to bare the strain of travel, but now that sun was rising, Wilhelmina could sense the stillness of exhaustion creep over him as the Guardian's body demanded its rest. And yet, Saetan's face betrayed no emotions as he regarded her above the rim of his glasses.

With measured steps, Wilhelmina approached him forcing an apologetic smile onto her face. “High Lord,” she greeted him.

“Lady Wilhelmina,” he acknowledged, his tone too soft and warm for comfort. If she gaged his manner correctly, he was not very pleased to see her.

His next words confirmed her suspicion. “Has my wayward daughter sent you to appease me?” he asked. “A sacrificial lamb to temper my wrath?”

For one moment, every muscle in Wilhelmina's body froze, before she recognized the sharp humor in his eyes and forced herself to breathe again. “I always thought of myself more as a mouse than a lamb to by honest. I do not willingly go to my slaughter, High Lord.”

His reaction was merely the surprised quirk of an eyebrow, which was a relief as it allowed for the hope that he was not really angry with her. “Jaenelle does not know that I'm here, though she promised to explain everything to you today. But I thought I should come to you and apologize. The puppy was my idea, and I am really sorry about it.”

Saetan finally put down the pen and sat down. Stapling his fingers in front of him, he regarded her coolly. “Explain.”

Not daring to sit down opposite him, Wilhelmina straightened her posture and crossed her arms behind her back to keep her hands still. “Jaenelle was concerned that you were cutting yourself off from us, and she thought Lady Sylvia might be able to help draw you out of your study and back into the world of the living.”

“I am a Guardian. I do not belong among the living,” he said gravely.

“That never seemed to stop you before,” Wilhemina said tartly before she could stop herself.

Saetan's face darkened. “I explained my reasons for my reclusion. Is it too much to ask to have those reasons respected?”

“We felt it took you too long to realize those reasons were... less than sensible.” Wilhelmina ventured, wondering just how deep she could dig her own grave, and whether or not ' _being tipsy'_ was sufficient excuse to talk back to the High Lord of Hell. If she survived this conversations, she would probably die of mortification as soon as she was sober enough to realize just how audacious she was behaving.

Silence stretched between them, hanging thick in the air.

“Let me see, if I understand you correctly,” Saetan said, his voice a sharp blade dripping with sweet poison. “After spending almost 50,000 years as a Guardian waiting to meet the daughter of my soul, and almost loosing her to the people who brutalized her, to the abyss, the very justified fear inside her own mind, and the backlash of her own power after she gave everything she had and everything she is to save the realms from Dorothea's corruption – after loosing my sons and my closest friends, who sacrificed themselves in order to help her, I believe it to be understandable that a person of my age and experience might find himself exhausted to be around the living.

"To see all these young faces living in the sunlight, and don't think that I'm not happy for them, but I know, Wilhelmina, that the day will come, when I will meet them in Hell. If I have learned nothing else in these past years, it is that the very reality of mortality is inescapable, and I...”

“You really need to get over that.” Wilhelmina interrupted him.

“ _Excuse me_?” He rose faster than she would have thought him capable, and Wilhelmina shrank away from him, suddenly terrified that she had overplayed her hand, before the image of Karla rose inside her mind – fierce, unmovable Karla, standing up to Lucivar.

“I understand that you needed some time to deal with the fact that Jaenelle almost died, but you have far too much to live for to let yourself get dragged down by all this doom and gloom. So yes, we are all mortal, and we will all burn ourselves out eventually, but that doesn't mean that we should just lie down and succumb to the inevitable. In fact, I believe it means the opposite.”

“You have a lot of nerve.”

Wilhemina nodded. “I'm drunk,” she conceded.

Saetan's eyebrows rose sceptically. “You don't appear drunk.”

Her hands hovering nervously near her stomach, Wilhelmina swallowed hard. “Oh no, I am very drunk. Very, _very_ drunk. I would never talk to you like this if I were sober.”

Another long silence made her squirm as Saetan regarded her, his expression inscrutable. “I see,” he finally said, and Wilhelmina had the fleeting impression that a smile had ghosted across his face, but considering her current predicament, she quickly dismissed the occurrence as wishful thinking.

“So, _in all your wisdom_ ,” and Wilhelmina could just hear the sarcasm dripping from every letter of the alphabet, “you all decided to trick me into visiting the opera as a favor to Jaenelle and conveniently forgot to mention that Lady Sylvia would be there as well.”

Wilhelmina squirmed “In our defence, the part where you thought we'd accidentally turned her into a dog was a genuine misunderstanding. Our intention was to get the two of you to work together in order to find the dog Katie had lost, and...”

“Who is Katie?”

“Ehm... she's a five year old witch. Sweet as pie. Cute as a button. Can cry at the drop of a hat.”

Wilhelmina was fairly sure that not many people had every seen such an incredulous expression on Saetan's face. In fact, she was dead certain that no one would believe her, should she ever mention this moment to anyone.

“And all of this...” Saetan waved his hands in an elegant gesture encompassing the entirety of her explanation, “...was _your_ idea?”

Unable to meet his steady gaze, Wilhemina studied the carpet. “It was a preemptive measure,” she admitted feebly. “I didn't want to chance Jaenelle coming up with a worse one.”

Saetan made a sound. If it had been anyone else, Wilhelmina would have described it as a snort, but she was quite certain the High Lord of Hell had never snorted in his life. “I believe you might have actually outdone her on that score,” he finally said.

Wilhelmina cringed, the last remnants of her courage exhausted. She suddenly felt very foolish, and even worse, almost entirely sober.

She was about to renew her apologies, when the door opened seemingly of its own volition and Draca glided into the room, a tray baring two steaming cups in her hands. “My apologies for the interruption,” the Seneschal said, her voice sounding not at all apologetic. “I thought Wilhemina could use something to calm her nerves before she went to bed, and Jaenelle made it very clear last night that you were to drink the rest of her tonic before you retired.”

A deep frown on his face, Saetan opened his mouth, and Wilhelmina would have bet her life that he was about to say something very pithy, but Draca studiously ignored him to continue. “And Geoffrey asked me to tell you that if you'll finish your letter within the next twenty minutes, he can pass it on to Lady Sylvia with the morning post.”

As she said this, she placed one of the cups on Saetan's desk and handed the other to Wilhelmina, a conspiratorial smile on her face. Confused, Wilhelmina accepted the brew with muttered thanks. She eyed Saetan warily. “If you're writing to Lady Sylvia to explain what happened, please wait. I would like to go see her and apologize in person.”

“Oh, I believe they cleared everything up last night,” Draca said nonchalantly, making Wilhelmina's head snap around in astonishment.

“Thank you, Draca. Please, do not let us keep you from your duties.” Saetan shot her a positively poisonous look, his voice laced with annoyance.

Her face carefully blank, Draca excused herself, but just before she closed the doors behind her, she caught Wilhelmina's flabbergasted gaze and smiled.

“What does she mean by that?” Wilhemina demanded as soon as the doors were closed.

Now it was Saetan who looked just the slightest bit uncomfortable. “Lady Sylvia and I had a long conversation after the lot of you ran off like thieves in the night.” His tone was accusatory, but Wilhelmina recognized it as the facade it was.

She just looked at him. Saetan looked back.

“We had dinner,” he finally admitted.

Wilhelmina bit ber lip. She would not say a word. Not. One. Single. Word.

“Did you?” her traitorous voice asked suggestively.

For the third time an uncomfortable silence stretched between them, but since Saetan seemed, for once, to be far more affected by this, Wilhelmina did not mind so much.

“Yes, well,” he began, searching for words, which Wilhelmina would have thought hilarious would she not have considered the very notion impossible. “Just because I do not appreciate the _manner_ of your interference, doesn't mean that I am unimpressed by your motivations.”

“So this _entire_ conversation we just had...”

Saetan regarded her calmly, obviously having regained his footing. “It's about the principle.”

“I see.” There were a lot of things she could have said, but she did not fancy trying her luck any further this night. “Jaenelle will be pleased,” she said with genuine warmth.

Saetan picked up the cup and made his way to the doors. Understanding that she was being politely dismissed, Wilhelmina followed him. Placing his hand on the handle, he turned around and pierced her with a sharp look. “You will not mention any of this to Jaenelle, yet.”

Wilhelmina started to protest, but Seatan cut her off. “She will know everything in time. Specifically, _after_ she comes back here to explain her actions last night.”

“Ah, a little punishment.”

His smile was warm. “Why should you be the only one?”

In this moment, Wilhelmina was not sure why she had ever been frightened by him. “Sleep well, High Lord,” she said quietly before she slipped out into the hallway and made her way to the guest chambers, hoping for a restful sleep.

 

 

The End

 


End file.
